


An Iron Fist

by SplattifyingAgent2



Series: Final Chapter [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Public Execution, Spoilers, burning at the stake, kinda decent fight scenes, technically the violence isn't really that graphic but you can connect the dots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-09-22 10:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17058362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplattifyingAgent2/pseuds/SplattifyingAgent2
Summary: Olberic and the party arrive in Riverford, intent on defeating Werner. Unfortunately for them, everything is exactly as it seems. Spoilers for Olberic's chapter 4.





	1. Stolen Dreams, Lost Light

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I did it. Finally bit the bullet because oh my god I love this game so much
> 
> Chapter retelling isn't exactly original, so I've taken some liberties with what happens in-game. I hope it's not too edgy, but the main things I've changed are Riverford's population and what Werner actually does in-game vs. in-story. Whether or not it's in-character is for you to decide.
> 
> Obviously, we've got some big spoilers for Olberic's chapter 4, but there's also some pretty major spoilers for Primrose's chapters 3 and 4. Or maybe just chapter 3, I dunno. Technically, there's also location spoilers for some other chapters, but it's not that big of a deal, right? Right.

 

"Another round here!"

The barman set a tray down with eight drinks - several different drinks, as a matter of fact. He'd gotten used to their personal favourites after the group stayed in town as long as they had. Alfyn leapt up to grab them the moment the tray hit the bar, and returned to the table the travelers were sitting around.

"Careful where you're swinging that," Therion grunted, snatching up his drink. "You almost spilled the whole damn tray."

"Ah, c'mon, Therion, you grump!" Alfyn said with a grin. "You know I wouldn't do that to you." Just to rub in the point, he balled one hand in a fist, pulled Therion into a headlock, and roughly rubbed at his head with his knuckles.

The thief struggled against him, and replaced his mussed-up hair when it was done. He looked to be coming up with some manner of retribution when Tressa said "c'mon, stop messing around and help me with the map!"

Alfyn grinned, seemingly proud of himself, and dutifully held down his corner of the map of Orsterra. It took up nearly the entire table.

Tressa looked around at the other travelers. Everyone was taking a look at the map. Cyrus was the first to speak, taking a feathered quill out of his pocket and using it as a pointer.

"I've taken the liberty of marking the towns where we each have business," he explained. He pointed out a few - Everhold, Goldshore, Wellspring. "I daresay this will make the creation of a solid path much easier."

"Good going, Professor!" Tressa said enthusiastically. "So out of those places, it looks like the closest is-"

"Riverford."

Everyone's faces turned to Olberic, whose eyes were focused on the little dot marked with the town's name. Just underneath it was his own name. He raised one finger and placed it on the dot as he took a swig from his drink. "Riverford," he repeated, "is our closest objective."

H'aanit frowned, looking closer. "There is no roade that leadeth from here to Riverford. We woulde have to taketh a differente path." She took another look about the map. "Something less than two days, by mine best guess."

Therion took another look. "And it would take about the same length of time to go back to Wellspring." He scowled at the thought. "Wish Heathcote told me about  _that_  one sooner..."

Olberic's face was hardened, almost angry, as he stared at the map. It took him a moment to look back at the group, expression softening. "Forgive me. I lost myself."

There was silence among them then, before Primrose broke it. "Let's put it to a vote, shall we?" she asked smoothly. "All in favor of returning to Wellspring."

Therion raised his hand to shoulder height immediately. He looked around the table at his compatriots and rolled his eyes again, but didn't look too displeased.

"And all in favor of moving on to Riverford?" Primrose asked.

Her own hand was the first in the air. Tressa's followed soon after, and Cyrus, Alfyn, and H'aanit came after that. Ophilia and Olberic did not move their hands, but Olberic looked at the group in slight surprise.

"That settles it," Primrose said decisively, aiming an award-winning smile in Olberic's direction. "Riverford it is."

The knight's face was set in a small grin. It looked like he was trying his hardest to stop smiling, and failing miserably. "Everyone, I... you all have my eternal gratitude."

"That settles it, then," Tressa said brightly. "We pack up for Riverford first thing in the morning."

And with that, she rolled up the map, and the meeting adjourned.

{asterisks}

The group of eight left Saintsbridge behind the next day. Tressa had the map in her hands as they did, and it almost completely obscured her face.

"Okay, so..." she began, staring hard at the path. "It looks like we'll be going past Clearbrook and Quarrycrest to get around to Riverford." She frowned. "It's like a big circle from here."

"But it's just a walk, right?" Ophilia asked. "We've been spending so much time lately in a hurry to get someplace or another. It'll be nice to just slow down and take things at our leisure."

Tressa rolled the map up again and stuck it in her backpack. "Yup!" she said happily. "Especially after all that running around in that forest. Ugh, my feet were  _killing_  me after that was done."

The merchant was so busy talking that she didn't notice the red-haired man the group was about to pass, somewhat hidden in the trees. There was a hungry look in his eye. Olberic fixed him with a glare that said "think again," and the man caught his eye and disappeared into the brush.

"And it'll be wonderful to see a new town again," Ophilia added. "We already spent six days in Saintsbridge..."

"Yeah, only because Therion got drunk and tried to rob the wrong guy," Alfyn joked.

The thief's face turned bright red. "How was I supposed to know he was a Knight Ardante?!"

"The uniform, the armor, the sword on his hip, the fact that he was right outside the cathedral..." Alfyn supplied automatically. Therion responded with a very rude gesture, which got a snort of laughter out of Tressa and a smack upside the head from Primrose.

The group passed through the Saintsbridge traverse and arrived in Clearbrook territory soon after. Tressa took the map back out every once in a while, making sure to point them in the right direction at each fork in the road. They passed through the Cliftlands as well, and got about halfway between the roads to Quarrycrest and Orewell before the group decided to stop for the night.

This was a routine that they'd grown used to by now, whenever they had to camp outside of a town. H'aanit and Therion would go hunting, Tressa and Cyrus would set up the campfire, and Olberic, Primrose, Alfyn, and Ophilia would work on the tents.

Once H'aanit and Therion had returned with that night's meal (some Birdian meat, which would be paired with some fruits left over from Saintsbridge), the group of eight gathered around the fire and dug in. For a while, there was no sound except the crackle of the fire and the quiet noises of chewing. Olberic eventually broke the silence.

"Have any of you ever been to Riverford?" he asked. The question was posed to the group at large, but he was looking at Therion when he asked it.

The thief was busy eating, and didn't reply right away. Once he was done with the food in his mouth, he spoke. "Nope, never been. Heard it was too poor to steal from. Too much risk, not enough reward."

Olberic chewed his meat in thought. "What else have you heard?"

Therion closed his eyes in thought, remembering. "It's not in very good shape, that's for sure. The ruling lord's oppressive and deals punishment for little mistakes. The people live in fear. Travelers get taxed on the way in and have to give an arm and a leg to leave. The guards keep watch on all the citizens and don't let them leave the town at all." He paused. "So it sounds like we might have more than one job to do, right, big guy?"

The group was quiet at this information, but Olberic nodded, seemingly unshaken. "I cannot stand by in a situation like this. Can I count on your aid, my friends?"

There was a chorus of assent, and the conversation was once again replaced with the quiet sounds of chewing.

The fire died down soon enough, and the night's meal ended as the flames flickered into embers. Tressa stretched and sighed. "Phew, I'm beat," she said. "Time to turn in. Night, all."

"I think I'll join you," Primrose said, rising as well. "See you all in the morning."

The merchant and the dancer retired to their tent. The rest of the travelers left in pairs to their own tents - Ophilia and H'aanit, Alfyn and Therion. Cyrus had left on his own, since Olberic, his bunkmate, was taking the first watch.

The warrior prodded the remains of the fire with his sword, and made a small stack of leftover twigs to try and coax it back to life. For now, it seemed to stay where it was, and he was content with that. It was enough light to see by, but not so much that another party would see them from a great distance. He watched the flickering flames, deep in thought.

An oppressive rule. People in fear. Of course, Olberic couldn't live with himself if he allowed such things to continue. He fully intended to put a stop to it while he searched for Werner. Still, he knew that things were hardly ever that simple. There would definitely be some manner of... complications further down the line.

He sighed. Best not to think about that. He had two tasks to focus on now - freeing the townspeople, and exacting justice on Werner. He could deal with the consequences later.

Fabric rustled behind him as someone poked her head out of her tent. He didn't turn. He knew who it was. This wasn't the first time it had happened.

"Trouble sleeping, Primrose?"

The dancer smiled to herself, crawling out of the tent and sitting next to him by the fire. "You might say that," she replied.

He looked at her with a gentle smile. "Yes, it seems to be a common occurrence. Is it Tressa? Would you prefer a new bunkmate?"

She waved off the thought. "Tressa is an angel. That couldn't be further from the truth." She hesitated, watching the flames. "I believe you know what the problem is. You've had it before."

"Nightmares," he rumbled. "About your own situation, I would wager."

She nodded solemnly.

"You don't have to talk, Primrose," Olberic reassured softly. "Cyrus told me about Simeon."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she sighed. "I suppose I couldn't expect it to stay a secret."

Olberic shook his head. "I believe I am the only one he informed. He let it slip by accident, actually. He assumed that I'd come to the same conclusion he had."

Oh. Cyrus had actually spoken to Primrose the first time he'd seen her with Simeon, and his hunch was right on the money. She'd  _thought_  she'd dissuaded him from discussing it further, but it seemed she was wrong on that score.

"You understand, then?" Primrose asked.

"Yes," the warrior responded with a nod. He spoke a bit slower than usual now, as if choosing his words carefully. "I know how much more difficult it becomes when the sin is attached to the face of a loved one. I understand where you must stand... although I've no doubts of your strength. I know you will do what you need to when the time comes." He paused. "I've never been gifted when it comes to words of encouragement, but... just know that I have faith in you. And that faith shall be your shield."

A smile tugged at the corners of Primrose's mouth. "Is that right?"

"And if need be, so shall I," he added. "I will stand with you to the end, Primrose. You, and everyone else."

She tucked her knees into her chest, and the smile came out fully this time. "Thank you, Olberic. You're a good man."

He looked back into the fire, and poked it with his sword again. "You flatter me."

There was silence for about a minute. "You're wrong about one thing, though," she told him.

He raised one eyebrow. "A common weakness. What would that be?"

"Simeon meaning what he did to me... doesn't make it more difficult," Primrose continued, her voice hardening. "The opposite, in fact."

"The opposite?"

"Simeon was close to me for a long time, Olberic," she said. "I know you understand that. But he manipulated me, betrayed me, and murdered my father. And gave me this." She lowered her legs, revealing the scar that marred her stomach, and Olberic winced.

"To know that I used to feel as I did about him makes it so much easier, Olberic," she continued, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the flames. "Because I can think of every moment I spent with him, how he used it for his own benefit, and the look in his eyes when he betrayed me - and it will give me strength as I plunge my dagger into his chest."

Olberic was silent at that, instead choosing to pick up another few twigs and throw them onto the flames. They burned a little brighter. But they couldn't match the fire in Primrose's eyes.

There was no noise between them except for the quiet crackle of the flames. A few minutes later, the dancer spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Olberic," she said. "Here we are, on our way with you to face your demons... and I'm burdening you with mine."

He shook his head. "It is a burden that I am more than willing to bear, if it would make yours lighter."

Primrose smiled, and sighed. "You're much too selfless for your own good, you know. Some women might find that attractive."

Unshaken, Olberic smiled back. "It is in my nature. I help those in need. On my honor as a knight, until I draw my final breath, I intend to keep it that way."

She shook her head with a chuckle, and threw her arms around him. Her bare skin connected with the warm fabric of his tunic, and under that, the cold steel of his armor.

That seemed to fluster him a little more, and he hesitated before very awkwardly and mechanically placing one hand around her shoulder. She grinned.

"I still think about it sometimes, you know," she whispered, just barely audible to him. "The day we met. The day I escaped Helgenish. It was just you and me, then."

"Yes, it was," Olberic replied, reminiscing a little himself.

"I'll be honest with you, Olberic..." Primrose said. "I'm not sure I could've done it myself."

Now it was Olberic's turn to laugh. It was a deep, hearty one, a laugh that she never found herself tiring of.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't understand how you could think that," he chuckled. "You just may be the strongest person I know, Primrose. Your determination alone could've bested Helgenish that day. I was but a witness." He turned to look right into her green eyes. "You had no problem then, and you will have no problem in the coming days. I am certain of it."

She looked back into his own stormy grey eyes, feeling a sense of comfort in them. She also noticed something else.

"Thank you, Olberic. But I think it's time for you to go to sleep."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because your eyes are already closing."

The warrior blinked. "I see... well, alright. I suppose it couldn't hurt."

She giggled softly. "Sleep, Olberic. I'll take watch until morning."

He opened his tent flap. "Good night, Primrose."

"Night, Olberic," she replied. "And thank you."

He smiled to himself, settled on his bedspread, and soon fell into the clutches of sleep.

{asterisks}

They packed up the next day, and continued their journey. Over time, the harsh cliffs and jagged rocks of the Cliftlands gave way to the natural life of the Riverlands once again.

The path to Riverford felt different, however. It was as if a haze had fallen over the area. Dead trees, jagged and foreboding, dotted the landscape, very visible against the lush greenery that was usually found in the region. The water that flowed alongside them was murky, and hostile wildlife seemed to jump out at the group more often than it did near Clearbrook or Saintsbridge.

"I don't like this," Therion said, replacing his dagger on his belt. "There's something wrong going on around here."

"I sense the same thing," H'aanit said. "Doth thou not smell it?"

"Smell?" asked Tressa.

"Smoke," H'aanit replied gravely.

"And where there's smoke, there's fire," Cyrus murmured. "I can smell it too."

Alfyn gulped, then spoke as well. "Hey, it's nothing to worry about, right? I mean... torches make smoke. And there's a good breeze goin' here. Enough of those, and we could be smellin' that."

His normally upbeat voice shook a little. It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Perhaps," H'aanit said, but she didn't seem to believe it.

"There's no way to find out until we locate the source," Cyrus said decisively. "Let's press on."

The group murmured their assent, and they continued on the road, but there was a sense of foreboding in the air. Olberic recognized the shiver that went down his spine. It happened on that fateful day eight years ago, and now it was happening again.

Death would await them in Riverford. He didn't know if it was one of the group, or someone else, but he knew. Before their business in Riverford was finished, someone would lose their life.

The sun was high in the sky when they saw the gates to Riverford. Like Therion had said, there were two guards standing there, and a short line as well. The group of eight stood huddled behind a rock formation, out of sight to anyone in the town's limits.

"So how do we get in?" Alfyn said.

"Easy," Therion replied immediately. "A group of eight looks suspicious, especially going into a town like that, so we split into pairs. Everyone takes a portion of our leaves to pay off the guard. When we get inside, we can stick to the pairs and get information from the townspeople, but we probably shouldn't talk to each other too much."

"It's almost like you've done this before," Primrose said dryly.

Therion shot her a smirk before going back to his explanation. "We'll have to be discreet about everything, understand? Place like that, it'll have guards all over the place. So the best way to share information among ourselves will be keeping the conversation short and sweet as we walk around town. Maybe we'll eventually get to meet up in the tavern or something and discuss everything further, but for now, that's too risky. Big groups are threatening to any regime."

The group muttered in agreement, and the pairs were soon made - Olberic and Primrose, Cyrus and Tressa, Alfyn and H'aanit, Therion and Ophilia.

"You'll be up first, right, Olberic?" Therion asked. He nodded. "Alright. Whoever's next, wait a few minutes before heading out there so it doesn't look like you're together." He was silent for a minute. "I think that's all the advice I can give."

The warrior looked at the group around him - somewhat apprehensive, but there was a steely determination in their eyes. "Thank you, my friends," he said, looking at each one in turn. "Thank you for staying with me on this path. Good luck." He hesitated a second, but decided there was nothing more to say, so he looked at Primrose, who was currently clinging to his side. "Shall we?"

She nodded, and Olberic looked at the group one more time before confidently strolling out toward the town gate.

"Put your arm around me," Primrose hissed immediately.

"What?"

"Do it," she ordered. "We'll look like a couple. Less suspicious."

The warrior obliged, placing one stiff arm around Primrose's shoulders as they got in line.

Luckily for them, it wasn't very long. The man at the far end was soon admitted, and the pair stepped forward, just behind the only other person in line.

Olberic felt Primrose turn, and saw Cyrus and Tressa standing behind them. Primrose aimed a discreet smile at the young merchant, who was looking unsettled, and the warrior caught her smiling back before his eyes snapped ahead once more.

The guard on the left sized him up, and Olberic nearly laughed, despite himself. The man carried himself with a false air of authority that anyone could've seen through - he was a head shorter than Olberic at least, and built more thinly. The guard on the right, on the other hand, just looked him in the eye.

"Got your fee?" he asked. Olberic reached into his pack with his free hand, and pulled out a little sack of leaves. The guard's eyes lit up.

"Of course," Olberic said. The guard swiped the sack out of his hand, opened it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Thank you, sir," he said. Olberic was about to enter the town, but the guard grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Yes?" the warrior asked. He put on the best facade of annoyance that he could muster.

The guard looked him dead in the eye. "Apologies, sir," he said, never breaking eye contact. "I just wanted to give you a piece of advice. Keep an eye on your lady friend."

Olberic quirked an eyebrow. "I believe she can take care of herself." He tried again, but the guard didn't let go of his arm.

"I mean it, sir," the guard said again. "Watch yourself." He didn't stop looking Olberic in the eye. He seemed to be giving him a clue of some sort.

The warrior nodded, and the guard finally relented as Olberic stepped into the town's boundaries.

The first thing he noticed was the roaring fire off to one side. As the townspeople walked around, going about their daily business, they would occasionally toss something into the flame; worthless trinkets, mostly. A guard stood by next to a large pile of wood, presumably for fuel. Next to that, a large barrel filled with torches.

Olberic kept his face as blank as he possibly could, but his eyes darted in several directions, taking everything in. The townspeople gave him calculating looks as they passed by, and most gave him and Primrose a wide berth.

"Olberic," she whispered. Her voice was strained. He looked at her, but her eyes were elsewhere. He followed her gaze to the middle of the town square.

There were four wooden stakes there, ten feet tall at least, with bundles of hay near the bottom of each one. The knight looked at them, expression unchanging, but his mind raced. He could only come up with a few purposes for the stakes, and none of them were good.

"Come, milady," he said, a little louder than he would've otherwise. "Lots to see."

He steered her away from the square, moving off toward a side path. He glanced back at Cyrus and Tressa, who had entered the town by now. The scholar was staring at the scenery with a look of concentration, and didn't seem to like it. Tressa said something to him - Olberic couldn't hear it from this distance - and he broke out of his reverie to reply.

The warrior looked away, and left for a side road. It seemed to lead to a residential area. There were less people around here, but more houses, and a little pier to their right. Olberic strode forward confidently, taking in the sights.

He felt a tug at his arm, and Primrose led him toward the pier. "Come, darling," she said. "Your feet must be weary. Let's have a seat."

They walked down the stairs toward the river that flowed through the town, and sat on the edge by the water.

"I don't like this," Primrose murmured. "I think there's more to this town than Therion knew."

"I must agree," Olberic replied. "Those stakes..."

Primrose looked at him with a worried expression. He knew that she was drawing the same conclusion as him.

"What do you think the fire was for?" she asked softly.

Olberic looked at the churning waters of the river. "Perhaps it's related to a faith system of this town," he said flatly. It was clear that he didn't believe his own words.

Primrose bit her lip. "Perhaps." She didn't believe him either.

"Let's not think about that. It's time we go looking for information about Werner." Olberic moved to stand. Primrose followed him, taking his hand.

He scanned the faces of the townspeople, and looked for one who might be willing to talk. It wasn't an easy task. They all looked quite wary of him.

Primrose, however, pointed one out; a young woman standing outside a house, craning her head as if looking for something. She looked rather friendly, so the pair walked over to talk to her.

"Excuse me," Primrose said, acting cordial. "Can you help us? We're rather new in town."

The young woman's eyes snapped to them with a start, but softened when she saw Primrose. "Of course," she said. "What can I do for you?"

Primrose gave Olberic a pointed look, and he leaned forward a little. The young woman seemed to shrink back, but she stood her ground. How admirable. "I'm looking for someone in this town," the warrior said, keeping his tone casual.

"Well, I can probably help you with that," the woman said, grinning a bit. "Pray tell me their name?"

"He goes by Werner, I believe."

The smile disappeared instantly. "W-what's your business with him?" She took a small step back.

Olberic lied through his teeth. "I'm an old friend of his, and heard he relocated to-"

As soon as the word 'friend' left the warrior's mouth, the young woman yelped, turning on her heel and darting into the closest house. Olberic blinked in surprise.

"What was that about?" Primrose asked. She looked as bewildered as he felt. "She looked like she saw a ghost."

"Perhaps Werner is not well liked here," Olberic noted.

Before they could look for someone else to ask, however, rapid footsteps sounded from behind them. Olberic turned just as a young man barrelled into him, falling to the ground with an "oof!"

Olberic held out one hand to help him up. "Here, friend. Are you alright?"

The young man took it, jumping up as fast as he could. He was about to reply when there was a voice behind him.

"Come on! He can't have gotten far!"

The young man swore under his breath, and gave Olberic a pleading look. "You never saw me, big man. 'Kay? I fear for me life if they catch me."

Olberic blinked, but nodded, and the young man darted into a nearby alleyway. A few seconds later, a pair of guards came into view, and approached the two of them.

"Oi!" one of them said. "Either of ye seen a guy run by here? Black hair, blue scarf?"

Primrose shook her head as Olberic stroked his chin, pretending to think. "I'm sorry, sir, we've seen nothing of the sort."

The guard leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Is that right, missy? Sure you're not pullin' me leg?"

Primrose nodded, staying polite, and batted her eyelashes for good measure. "Positive, Mister Guardsman."

"Don't gimme yer lip, woman," he growled. It wasn't nearly as threatening as he probably thought it sounded. "Tell me where 'e's hidin'."

Olberic's hand clamped on the guard's shoulder. The guard finally seemed to notice his presence. "We've seen nothing," he rumbled threateningly. "I urge you be on your way now, good sir."

The guard glared back up at Olberic. "Fine. But I'll be watchin' ye, ye big lug."

Seemingly satisfied, the guard and his partner walked off to check the pier. After a moment, Olberic turned his head toward the alleyway. "They've gone."

The young man, looking rather disheveled now that Olberic got a good look at him, poked his head out. "Phew... thanks, big man. You saved me life, you did."

Olberic shook his head. "Think nothing of it. Might I have the honour of your name?"

The young man laughed. "Don't get many men 'round here talkin' so nice, do we?" He stuck out his hand. "'m Reggie. And who'm I speakin' to?"

Olberic hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not to use a fake name again, but he figured it wouldn't be necessary. He shook Reggie's hand. "Olberic Eisenberg. This is my close friend."

She smiled, and offered her own hand. "Primrose. A pleasure."

Reggie looked positively giddy upon seeing Primrose, and seemed to fumble with himself for a moment before gently grasping her hand and laying a kiss on her fingers. The dancer nearly laughed at the man's enthusiasm.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Reggie said.

"Yes, it's good to see someone can smile in this town," Olberic agreed.

Reggie's grin grew a little, but turned sad. "Not for much longer, I'd wager," he said. "Today's... well. If yer new in town, I'd tell you to leave for today. It ain't a pretty sight."

Olberic sobered instantly. "Why is that?"

The smile disappeared completely now, and Reggie shuddered. "Today's the scheduled execution."

The warrior froze, stock-still. "Execution," he repeated without inflection.

"I wager you saw the pyre in the square," Reggie said. It wasn't a question.

"We did," Primrose confirmed. "That's what it's for?"

The young man nodded gravely. "You won't like it," he said. "I..." He looked about to say more, but cut himself off with a choking noise. "Gah... 'pologies, me friends. I... I've a 'ard time talking about it."

"I understand," Olberic replied immediately. "I've some questions for you anyway, Reggie."

The young man looked grateful. "Course. What d'you wanna know?"

"I'm looking for a man called Werner."

He was expecting a similar reaction to the woman they'd asked earlier, but Reggie just raised an eyebrow. "What's your business with Lord Werner?"

Olberic blinked, taken aback. Primrose stepped in. "Hang on.  _Lord_  Werner?"

Reggie nodded. "'e's the rulin' lord here. 'as been for a while now. 's why we're all livin' like this, innit?"

"Werner's responsible for this as well?!" Olberic said, probably a bit louder than he should've. It made Reggie grin.

"Sure is. Am I right in assumin' your business isn't friendly?"

Olberic nodded. "I've a score to settle with him."

Reggie chuckled. "Then I think you and me, we'll get along just fine, Mister Eisenberg." As he said this, he frowned, face twisting in thought. "'ang on. Olberic Eisenberg?"

"Yes," the warrior replied, waiting to see if he would be recognized.

Reggie seemed to think for another few seconds, then waved it off. "Ah, sorry. Thought I recognized the name. 'm sure it'll come back to me later."

Primrose grinned at the exchange.

"Anyway," Reggie continued. "There's somethin' I'll be needin' to talk to you 'bout later. Come back 'ere tomorrow morning, 'kay? Today... we won't have time."

Olberic nodded, hoping he was getting himself into something good. "Of course, friend. Thank you."

Reggie gave him a little thumbs up, and just then, a loud horn was heard. He glanced backward. "Damn," he whispered. "They're startin' it."

"Starting?"

"The guards'll make everyone come watch," Reggie said. "D'you mind if I stick with you for a bit? I'd rather not take me chances alone."

"Not at all," Olberic said.

"But you should probably hide the scarf," Primrose advised. Reggie took it off, quick as a whip, and stuffed it into his coat. Primrose frowned, and reached toward his hair.

"Oi!" he protested. "What d'you think yer doin' there?!"

"Helping you blend in," Primrose replied. "You'd be surprised what a little self-care does to change a look."

Begrudgingly, Reggie allowed the dancer to fix his hair. When she was done, it  _did_  look a fair bit neater.

"Well, you're not quite a new person," Primrose noted, looking him up and down. "But the guards should have a harder time recognizing you."

Reggie raised one eyebrow and shrugged. "Well, alright. 'spose 'm not the expert 'ere, am I?"

The three of them strode back to the town square. A crowd was already gathering. Some guards were knocking on doors to make sure everyone was out of their houses. Olberic could make out his six friends in the crowd. They looked none too pleased.

Once everyone was gathered, another guardsman came out of nowhere. There were four prisoners with him, bruised and shackled: an old woman; a young man, perhaps in his twenties; a young woman, about the same age; and a girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen. Olberic fought to keep his face neutral.

The guard read out from a piece of parchment in a flat, defeated voice. He recited their names. "For the crime of treason against Lord Werner, the four of you are sentenced to death by fire."

"Treason?" Primrose whispered.

"Criticizing 'im," Reggie corrected. "But treason sounds like a better reason to the rest of us, dunnit?"

Olberic looked around at the crowd, expecting a cry to go up at this blatant example of injustice, a ripple of speech,  _anything_. But the townspeople were silent, and all carried the same expression of resignation to their fate.

The sound of a horse's hooves interrupted the silence, slow and foreboding, and a moment later, a horse entered the square. Olberic fixed a hard gaze at the man atop it.

He'd covered himself in dark-coloured armor, and poking out from it, there was a cravat, suggesting a suit underneath. His mustache and beard were the same shade of dark brown as his hair, and he was a little bit shorter than Olberic. He also wore a belt with a travel pouch on one hip and a sheathe for his sword on the other.

The townspeople all looked up at him, expressions never changing. Werner opened his travel pouch and took another piece of parchment from it. After reading over it for a moment, he spoke aloud, reciting four more names that Olberic didn't recognize.

Another set of people came out of the crowd: a young man, a gentleman who looked a few years older than Olberic, and two young women. One of them was the same girl who he had tried to talk to earlier.

A few guards came out of the crowd too, and unlocked the prisoner's shackles. They were led to the wooden stakes, and their hands were bound with ropes instead, looped back over the stakes so they couldn't run. Werner looked at the second set of townspeople and spoke.

"You have one minute."

The four of them instantly rushed to the prisoners, embracing them, whispering to them. A few shared kisses. All of them had tears staining their faces.

"What's this?" Olberic asked under his breath.

"'e gives the loved ones a chance to say goodbye," Reggie replied bitterly. "Then... well, you'll see for yourself."

"Loved ones?"

Reggie pointed out the pairs, one by one. "Boy and his grandmother. Sisters. Lovers. Father and daughter."

He heard Primrose exhale a shaky breath next to him.

"Enough."

Evidently, the minute was up. The four townspeople stepped back.

"Light your torches."

They walked back to the barrel full of torches, and lit them one by one. Olberic felt a cold fist clench at his heart.

"This can't be..." he whispered, barely audible. He looked over at Reggie, who was staring at the prisoners with a stony expression.

They walked back in front of the stakes, torches in hand, eyes downcast.

"Now set them alight."

There was a long moment of hesitation. The young man was the first to drop his torch, lighting the bale of hay that lay at the old woman's feet. The two young women followed after. All three of them looked away as they did it.

Olberic gritted his teeth. He looked for his friends in the crowd.

H'aanit had an uncharacteristic look of sheer loathing on her face, directed straight at Werner. Next to her, Alfyn was turning green. Ophilia had her head bowed and her hands clasped together, eyes squeezed shut and lips moving in silent prayer. Therion's stony expression resembled Reggie's.

Cyrus was covering Tressa's eyes, and had a mix of emotions on his face; despair, anger, pity. All Olberic could see of Tressa's face, however, was her lips. They were trembling, as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

As the flames overtook the bales of hay and began to lick at the prisoner's feet, they began to scream from the heat and pain. But the last townsperson still hadn't dropped his torch. Werner stared at him.

"I have given you more than enough time to speak your last," he said coldly, ignoring the shouts of pain. "Set her alight."

The man trembled, and shook his head. "I-I can't, Lord Werner."

At this, Werner's nostrils flared, and he jumped from his horse, drawing his sword. Even from a distance, Olberic could tell that the blade was extraordinarily sharp, sharp enough to cut with a touch rather than a slash.

Werner stalked over to the man - the father - as the three other townspeople returned to the crowd. The other three prisoners' screams reached an even higher pitch. Olberic saw Cyrus whisper something to Tressa, and moved his hands to cover her ears instead. The young merchant's eyes were closed.

Slowly, deliberately, Werner placed the tip of his blade against the father's throat. "I will give you one final chance. Drop your torch."

The girl behind him said something to him, but the man trembled. "I can't do that."

Werner rolled his eyes. "So be it."

And with one swift movement, he cut the man's throat. Blood sprayed, and stained the sword.

Now, there was sound. A ripple of cries rose from the crowd as his body fell, catching the flames on the way down. The girl screamed.

"SILENCE!" Werner bellowed. "Unless you want to meet the same fate!"

The noise shut off as quickly as it began. Werner stooped to pick up the torch, and set the girl on fire directly. The other three prisoners were already dead; her screams were the only noise that pierced the air.

Olberic had seen many terrible things in his life. He'd been in the thick of war, watched his closest friend cut down his liege. Even on this journey, for as much as he enjoyed the company of his friends and fellow travelers, there were still occasional horrors, like Gideon's abode beneath Quarrycrest.

But nothing he'd seen had made him feel as much murderous intent as the actions that he'd just witnessed.

He stepped forward. "I cannot allow this," he growled.

Primrose tugged at his arm. "Olberic."

He didn't stop, and took another step. "Olberic!" she hissed.

He finally turned to look at her. "I'm going to kill him," the warrior rumbled.

"Olberic, you can't," the dancer pleaded, stepping in front of him. "He's too well guarded."

"She's right," Reggie said. "They'll 'ave you surrounded and stick a spear in you 'fore you can draw your sword."

"He rules through fear," Olberic said. "They will join me against him."

"No, they won't!" Primrose whispered. "What would happen to them if you were to fail?"

Reggie chimed in again. "Seriously, mate, listen to me for a sec." Olberic spared a glance at Werner, who was now admiring his handiwork as the girl died, before looking at Reggie.

"You wouldn't be the first one who's tried that, alright?" Reggie told him. "There've been others, right. 'e's still standin' there. They've all lost, and d'you know what 'e did with his guards when they tried to turn against him?"

Olberic shook his head, but he could feel a pit in his stomach. He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Executed. Every single one of 'em. Some by the sword, some by fire, but all of 'em lost their lives. They aren't stupid enough to go through that again. If you try to fight Werner, they'll defend 'im without a second thought."

Olberic's hands were clenched into fists, and he seethed with anger. He looked down at Primrose, who had a defiant expression, as though she might stop him herself if he tried to push past her.

He exhaled, defeated. "Fine," he muttered, barely keeping his composure. He looked over at H'aanit, who seemed to be thinking the same thing he was, caught her eye, and shook his head. She took several deep breaths, and nodded in response.

Werner climbed back on his horse. "Adjourned," he announced, and rode back off into the evening darkness. The townspeople scattered.

The warrior stared at the five burning bodies, forcing himself to take in the sight.

"Olberic," Reggie said solemnly. He snapped his eyes to the younger man.

"Come to the alleyway tomorrow morning," he said. "Bring Primrose. Bring anyone else who might 'elp. I swear to you, mate, we're taking 'im down."

Olberic nodded at him, and Reggie turned to leave. A second later, he called the young man's name, and he turned around.

"I have to ask," Olberic rumbled. "Did you ever...?" He trailed off, instead gesturing to the pyre. The flames were beginning to die down as the prisoners' clothes and bodies turned to ash.

Reggie looked away and nodded. "Me dear mum, last year. I was... I lit 'er up."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Olberic replied automatically.

Reggie gave him a strained smile. "Thanks, mate. We all got somethin' to fight for, don't we? Now you know mine." He paused, and turned again. "See you tomorrow."

Olberic watched him leave.

_Something to fight for._

"Olberic?"

He turned, and looked at Primrose. "Yes?"

"We should retire for the night."

"Yes, but..."

"But?"

"First, we need to talk to the others."

Primrose smiled. "I was thinking the same thing."


	2. For Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wouldn't know by looking at my most recent work, but I actually do prefer more light-hearted stories to the heavier stuff that I've been doing lately. Maybe if I get an idea, I'll figure something out after I'm done with this.
> 
> Also, if I got some plot details wrong, I'm sorry. It's been a while since I last played the game (and even longer since I last played Olberic's story; I finished it first). We have a bit of a shorter chapter this time, but it's mostly setup for the finale. That's fine, right? Right.

 

Primrose poked her head out the door the two shared and sighed. "There's no guards in the building," she told Olberic. "We should be able to speak freely now."

The warrior didn't look up, but muttered a response. He was clearly deep in thought, trying to busy himself by getting ready for bed. Primrose sighed again.

"Olberic, we-"

She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Both of their eyes snapped to the source immediately. Primrose's hand was already on her dagger before she saw who it was. Her expression softened then.

Alfyn raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Whoa, there," he said. "Just me."

She forced a smile and put the dagger back where it was, looking at Alfyn expectantly.

"I, uh..." he started. "I got H'aanit here too. Could get the others. We oughta talk."

Primrose flicked her eyes to one side. Alfyn nodded. "Not a soul around."

With that, she opened the door right up and let Alfyn and H'aanit into the room. They were joined by Therion and Ophilia next, and Cyrus and Tressa not long after.

The eight sat in the room in silence. After a moment, Olberic spoke up, the first thing he'd said out loud since they left the square.

"I must..." he began, pausing to choose his words. "I feel I must apologize to all of you. No one should-"

H'aanit held up one hand. "Saveth it."

Olberic blinked. "Hm?"

"I needen not your pity," she continued bluntly. "Nor your apologies or sympathy. We aren comrades in arms, aren we not?"

"Well, yes, but I-"

"I would gladly watch that scene again and again if it meant I could aid you, Sir Olberic," Cyrus added.

"Be that as it may, I must-"

"We're your friends, Olberic," Alfyn chimed in. "Stick together through thick and thin, and all that."

Olberic had a pained look on his face, looking at each one of his companions in turn. "I thank you, my friends, and I've no doubt that we will stand together... but I must take responsibility for... today. Were I not here, traveling with you, none of you would have had to see these things."

There was silence for a bit. Then Primrose spoke, a bit quieter. "Were  _we_  not here, Olberic, you may have died today."

Everyone's eyes shot to him. The warrior looked embarrassed at the statement. "I understand, but-"

She wasn't done. "Were we not here, Olberic, would you have gotten this far? You certainly wouldn't have been able to do what you've come here for. You would've ended up on the ground with a spear in your back."

He was speechless, feeling a little bit ashamed.

"I understand well that you feel the need to protect those around you, Olberic," Primrose said, speaking more gently. "I might understand that better than anyone else here. But we've all seen terrible things. And I can't speak for anyone else, but the scene in the town square did nothing but give me my own reason to kill that man."

"I feelen the same way," H'aanit agreed. "Few times in mine life have I felt such rage, to see a body desecrated so."

"It went against just about everything I've strived for," Alfyn added.

One by one, the other travelers voiced their agreement, except one.

"Well, I..." Olberic began. "I... am unsure of how to respond, my friends. I must thank you again for staying with me on this path."

"Can I say something...?"

All eyes turned to Tressa, who hadn't spoken up to this point.

"I, um..." She took a second to gather her words. When she spoke, her voice was small. "Sorry, I just... okay. When I started traveling with all of you, I didn't think that I would see things like... that. And... there's a part of me that would like to go home. Like... a lot. But you're still my friends, and..." She trailed off for a second, bowing her head. "I'm still gonna stay with you all." After a second, her usual peppy smile started to grow on her face. "After all, if I wasn't here, who would manage your finances?"

Ophilia nodded, a grin growing on her face as well. "Yes, we need to keep our chins up! It's darkest just before the dawn, after all. The Flame will guide us to victory, I know it."

There were smiles all around - some bigger than others. "What's on the agenda tomorrow, then?" Alfyn asked.

"Primrose and I met a young man today," Olberic rumbled. "Reggie. He told us where to meet him, and I believe he will aid us in our mission."

Therion narrowed his eyes. "That sounds way too easy."

"Perhaps," Olberic conceded. "But it is all we have for now."

"And what if it's a trick?" the thief countered. "This guy could be leading us into a trap. What if he's one of Werner's men?"

"Will we not be armed?" Olberic asked simply.

"Sure, but that's a fine way to start a damn outcry. We'd be lucky if we just got run out of town, and where would you be then?"

Olberic had to think for a moment. "We've no choice," he said decisively. "Unless any of you have information you've not shared, he is our only option."

Therion grumbled a little more, but stopped arguing. Alfyn stood with a stretch and a yawn.

"Well, if that's sorted, I'm hittin' the hay," he said. "Night, all."

"I will comen with you," H'aanit said. "I bid thee goode night."

Similar responses came up from the rest of the group, and they left one at a time, leaving only Olberic and Primrose once again.

There was silence for a moment before Olberic spoke. "Is Therion right?" he asked quietly. "Am I being naive?"

Primrose thought about that. "No."

Olberic raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. "Is that so? Why, pray tell?"

"Reggie was being chased when we met him," Primrose said simply. "I don't think the guards are smart enough to pull off a ruse like that. And Werner doesn't know we're here, so they wouldn't even have a reason to trick us." She smiled at him. "And you have your moments, Olberic, but I wouldn't call you naive." She paused. "Well. Usually."

"Usually?" he repeated, bemused. "What are you referring to?"

The dancer turned on her charm, batting her eyelashes and closing the distance between them. She also made sure to move her hips a bit, accentuating her curves. "You tell me,  _sir knight_ ," she whispered seductively, gently gripping his chin and tilting his head up toward hers.

Olberic clenched his jaw, quickly turning his head off to one side. He could not, however, hide the blush that was quickly growing on his face. "I don't know what you mean."

Primrose smiled. "Oh, my... perhaps you're enjoying yourself more than you're letting on...?"

"I don't know what you mean," Olberic repeated, gritting his teeth. He kept his eyes focused on other things - the sheets of the bed he sat on, the colour of the walls, the fading sheen on the door handle - anything except Primrose. He would not allow himself such thoughts about his friend.

She giggled, and pulled back. "Kidding. You're  _so_  easy to tease, Olberic."

He grumbled a little under his breath. The only words that Primrose could make out were "vexing woman..."

She had to smile at that. "Sleep, Olberic. We have a big day tomorrow."

He nodded in agreement at that, and she moved back to her own bed.

It took a while for the knight to doze off, but he managed it eventually.

{asterisks}

He woke up the next morning, groaning and rubbing at his face with his hands. Not a good start, as far as he was concerned. He didn't feel rested at all.

Primrose, on the other hand, was already awake, sitting on the edge of her bed and doing... whatever it was she did to doll herself up for the day. Olberic could never keep track. He slowly raised himself to a sitting position.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he heard her say. He could hear the sly smirk in her voice.

Olberic rubbed at his face one more time. "Good morning to you."

"You were out for a while," she continued. "Longer than usual. Sleep well?"

"Just the opposite," Olberic grumbled. "One of the worst slumbers I can remember for some time."

The dancer was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was a bit quieter. "Nightmares?"

Olberic shook his head. "Not tonight. Just... apprehension."

She gave him a look of understanding. "I see..." Primrose got up, and moved over to his bed. "You shouldn't worry so much, Olberic. We're all with you."

"Yes, I know," Olberic agreed. "And I thank you for that. But I still feel... uneasy. I believe that not all will go as planned."

Primrose put one hand over his. "When does it ever?" she said with a little smile.

Olberic chuckled at that. "Yes... I believe there is a saying about the best-laid plans."

She smiled a little wider. "Come on, you should get ready. Reggie will be waiting for us."

Olberic swung his legs out and stepped out of the bed as Primrose left the room, and prepared himself for the day. He made sure that his armor was in place before he walked outside.

As he did, he bumped right into Therion. "My apologies, sir," he said on reflex.

Therion looked him in the eye. "Don't worry about it," he said, and walked in another direction. Olberic cleared his throat, and he looked back.

The warrior held out one hand. "My coin purse, if you please."

Therion's face remained blank, but he tossed the little sack of leaves into Olberic's outstretched hand as he left.

Primrose was waiting for him outside, and she held out one arm. "Shall we?"

And so they walked. The roaring fire that had been used to immolate the prisoners was dying down now. The ashes from the town square had disappeared, and someone had set out fresh bales of hay. There was no indication that five innocent people had been murdered there the previous day.

The townspeople who walked past the pair all had the same expression of resignation as they did yesterday. Olberic was sickened.

Before long, however, they reached the alleyway where they'd met Reggie before. The young man was standing there, leaning against the wall of a house. Olberic inclined his head in greeting.

"Morning, Mister Eisenberg," he said. His eyes flicked in a few different directions. "Few other people're already in there. Friends of yours?"

The warrior nodded, and Reggie gestured for him to go inside.

It was a simple home, with a desk in the middle of the room. There were a few piles of papers on it and chairs on either side. The chair furthest from the door had a man seated in it who looked a little older than Reggie. He had pale hair, and was rather impeccably dressed.

He was also in a rather heated discussion with Cyrus. Olberic could see a diagram of some sort between the two of them, and every few seconds one of them would point to a spot and explain something. Tressa was in the other chair, watching the exchange with an amused smile. She waved at Olberic and Primrose when she noticed them.

The two men were so engrossed in their conversation that it took them several seconds to notice the new presences in the room. The pale-haired man was the first to look up, and he cleared his throat.

"Ah, forgive me," he said. That got Cyrus' attention, and the scholar sat back in his seat as he watched the new arrivals. "Are you the man who Reggie met yesterday?"

Olberic nodded, and held out one hand. The pale-haired man rose to shake it. "My name is Harald," he introduced. "I understand you helped Reggie out of a pinch yesterday, and I thank you for that."

"Think nothing of it," the warrior replied. "I am Olberic. This is my companion, Primrose."

Harald gave Primrose a brief smile before turning his attention back to Olberic. "A pleasure. He told me about you. Olberic Eisenberg, is it?" He paused. "Forgive me for intruding, but... are you  _the_  Olberic Eisenberg? The Unbending Blade of Hornburg?"

The knight nodded. Harald gave him a tired smile. "I... well, I would be lying if I said I weren't a little excited at the prospect, sir. It's quite serendipitous that you arrived when you did... although I wish you hadn't seen the execution."

Olberic shook his head. "That isn't necessary. Shall we talk?"

"Of course." Harald took his seat again. "Let's start from the beginning. My name is Harald, and I'm the leader of a secret group of rebels in this town. We plan to overthrow Werner at the first opportunity, and I intend to become the ruling lord when the deed is done."

"Why you?" Primrose asked.

"My father was the lord of Riverford before Werner came along," Harald replied, without missing a beat. "Eight years ago, Werner falsely accused my father of many crimes, won the people's support, and executed him to rise to power. Since then... well, you've seen the state of the town now."

"Harald and I were discussing strategy when you came in," Cyrus said.

The rebel leader inclined his head. "Yes, your friend has quite the mind. Luckily for you, we've nearly got the numbers we need to pull off our plan. Each time Werner executes my townspeople, he unknowingly adds more to our group. I believe with you and your friends with us, we will have enough."

"Then you will be quite happy to know that there are four more along with us," Olberic told him.

As if on cue, the door opened again, but it was not another of the travelers that entered the room. It was Reggie, and he seemed to be quite worked up about something.

"'arald!" he said excitedly. "I just remembered who 'e is! It's-" The young man turned toward Olberic. "Gods, but it's the Unbending Blade of 'ornburg, innit?! You're a damned legend, man! Can't believe I didn't realize it before!"

He grabbed Olberic's hand and shook it enthusiastically. The knight was understandably dazed.

"Reggie," Harald chided. "Please, calm yourself. Don't shout it to the heavens."

"But it's the  _Unbending Blade of 'ornburg_ , 'arald!" Reggie said, still not letting go of Olberic's hand. "For the gods' sakes, man, we're damn near invincible with 'im on our side! We could march up to Werner's front door and-"

"You're wrong," Olberic said.

That made Reggie stop and look at him. "What the 'ell d'you mean,  _I'm wrong_? You're the finest swordsman Orsterra's seen in the past century!"

"You flatter me," the warrior said. "However, Reggie, rumors of my life were greatly exaggerated. I can tell you that not all you've heard of me is true."

Reggie crossed his arms incredulously. "Well, lay it on me, then."

"For one, you likely heard that I died during the fall of Hornburg."

The young man paused. "...Yeah, I did 'ear that."

"No man is invincible, Reggie," Olberic told him. "I made the same mistake during my youth. I felt that I could do no wrong, and I was proven incorrect when my liege was murdered. I was bested in battle that day."

Reggie slowly blew out a breath. "So what're you saying? You don't think you can beat Werner?"

"All I am saying is that there are no guarantees," Olberic replied. "I am not infallible. But neither is Werner. I fully intend to kill him myself."

Reggie nodded a few times, and blew out another breath. A sheepish look appeared on his face. "Alright. Sorry, friend."

The warrior smiled. "It is nothing to be sorry about Reggie. I  _will_  aid you in this task, and may the gods strike me down if I'm wrong."

Reggie gave him a little smile, and went back outside.

He turned back to the others, and saw Primrose giving him a strange look. "What is it?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "I thought you said you weren't good with words."

"I'm more skilled with a blade," he said.

"On that note," Harald interjected. "The plan revolves around the strength of our members. Would you mind terribly if I saw your strength in action, Sir Olberic?"

"Just Olberic is fine," the knight replied. "And that's quite alright."

Harald grinned. "You're quite agreeable, aren't you? Very well, let's go." He got up from his seat, and looked to the other three travelers. "You're free to come along if you like, but make sure not to rouse suspicion."

Harald left first, speaking a quick word to Reggie on the way out, with Olberic and Primrose on his heels. He walked a little ahead of them and they followed his lead.

The town square came into view, and Harald stopped. As Olberic and Primrose passed by him, he spoke. "Do you see the man with the red hat?" he muttered.

The warrior scanned the square, and did see such a man. He was having a word with Reggie.

"He's our strongest warrior," Harald continued. "Let's see what you can do against him."

Olberic nodded, and the pair strolled over to where Reggie was speaking with the man.

They both looked up. "You're the one Reggie told me about?" the man with the red hat said.

Olberic nodded. "I'm told we're to fight."

The man sized him up, and looked around. "Alright." Then, suddenly, he spoke in a much louder voice. "Now what's a woman like  _that_  doing with a man like  _you_?"

Olberic froze. Reggie looked aghast. "What're you doing, man?!" he whispered.

"C'mon, the people could use a bit of entertainment," the man muttered back. He spoke loudly again. "Too good to talk to me, eh? Then let's settle this like men!"

He drew a blade from his belt. Olberic took out his own as Primrose stepped aside. "The lady is with  _me_ ," he said.

"We'll see about that!" said the man, and he charged. Olberic raised his blade and blocked his strike easily.

By now, there were several heads turning toward the sound, but they were done with theatrics. The man darted forward, aiming a strike toward Olberic's shoulder, but the warrior sidestepped and caught his arm. The man twisted out of his grip and stepped back, inclining his head with a grin.

Olberic swung next, aiming more for his opponent's sword than his body. The man blocked the strike, and the harsh  _clang_  of metal was loud in the square. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a few guards taking notice of the clash, but they didn't move.

"Come on, then!" the man suddenly shouted. "Where's your fighting spirit?!"

With a cry of challenge, he charged toward Olberic. The warrior raised his sword to block the strike again, but the man was attacking from two directions; the real blow came from below, and Olberic felt it. He was grateful for his armor.

However, the man had left himself open, and so Olberic brought the hilt of his blade down in a powerful strike. It struck the side of the man's head, and he stumbled away, raising his hands. The entire exchange took about ten seconds.

"Whoa, whoa..." he said. "I yield. Damn, you're good..."

Olberic straightened. He cast a quick look around the square; all eyes were still on him, but most fell away when he looked as the people got back to their business. One of the guards was coming toward him.

"Do we have a problem here?" he asked.

"None at all," Olberic replied calmly. "Simply a misunderstanding. Please forgive my transgression, good sir."

The guard hesitated for a moment. "I suppose I can let you off with a warning." He looked away, hiding a smile. "Damn good fight, that."

As the guard left, Olberic looked back toward his companions. Reggie whistled appreciatively. "Impressive," he noted.

Primrose joined Olberic again, a little smile on her face. "Looks like you've still got it," she told him.

They strolled back across the square. Olberic locked eyes with Harald on the way, who inclined his head and turned back the way he came. The pair followed him back into the house.

"I'm impressed," Harald said when they got inside. "Truly, I am. I feel confident about our chances with you on our side, Olberic."

"You flatter me," Olberic responded. "That was satisfactory?"

"More than satisfactory," Harald said, beaming. "My word, Olberic, that was impressive swordplay."

Harald sat down again, and steepled his fingers. "Now that that's over with, I believe you've heard enough about us. But I must ask, what brings you here to Riverford?"

Olberic hesitated. "It is something of a story. Are you sure you would like to know?"

"Of course I do," Harald said. "I was rather surprised that the legendary Olberic Eisenberg showed up here. If it isn't too much of an intrusion, I would know why."

And Olberic told him. He started from the meeting with Gaston, when he heard of Erhardt. After that, he relayed the meeting with Gustav, and then finally, his confrontation with his old friend.

"...he told me of Werner, and where I could find him," the warrior finished. "And... here I am. I would not have made it near as far as I have without the help of my friends, however."

Harald paid attention throughout the story, and nodded a few times when the story was finished. "I see... you've been through quite a bit, then, haven't you?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"Then I see no reason to wait any longer," Harald said decisively. "Olberic Eisenberg, I humbly asked for your aid, and that of your friends, in our mission."

"You have it," Olberic replied immediately.

"Excellent," the rebel leader replied, rubbing his hands together. "We carry out our plan tomorrow. I hope to see all of you then."


	3. Battle At Journey's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! I hope you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I might have some new Octopath stuff in store, but for now, this is what we've got.
> 
> This chapter is the main reason I decided to write this story in the first place. I hope it lives up to the picture I have in my head.

"Alright, run it by me one more time."

Therion sighed in annoyance. "We've been over this, Alfyn."

"I'm just askin'!" the apothecary responded defensively. "I gotta make sure everything's straightened out! It doesn't hurt to be sure!"

"It is fine," Olberic interjected. "We are supporting Harald's army in two groups. H'aanit, Tressa, Therion, and you, Alfyn, help to create a diversion, so the guards remain occupied. Primrose, Cyrus, Ophilia, and I lead a strike team directly into Werner's manse, where we will confront and defeat him."

Alfyn chewed on that for a moment. "Alright, got it. Diversion. Not hurtin' them, right?"

"If you can avoid it," Olberic said. "The soldiers are not loyal to Werner's cause. They serve him out of fear. There is no need to take their lives when it isn't necessary."

Alfyn nodded sagely. "Alright." He rummaged in his satchel. "Let's see if I don't have some stuff in here..."

He left the inn, still looking through his bag.

"Where's everyone now, then?" Therion asked.

"H'aanit and Ophilia are already in position, Primrose and Tressa are still getting ready, and I believe Cyrus is speaking with Harald," Olberic recited.

"Gotcha," Therion replied. "I'll be in the square. Good luck, old man."

He left the inn as well. Olberic looked back toward the rooms.

This was it, he thought. He was finally at his last destination, finally preparing to take on the man who orchestrated the fall of his beloved Hornburg. Olberic couldn't deny that he felt nervous, but he knew that there was no turning back now.

Primrose and Tressa left their rooms as he was thinking this. The merchant waved goodbye to the both of them as she left, and Primrose strolled over to where Olberic stood.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Olberic took a deep breath. "I must be," he replied. "It is time for the end of my journey."

"You sound like you're planning your own funeral," Primrose noted. She tried to make it sound playful, but her own apprehension was seeping into her voice.

"I may have to," Olberic mused. "In that case, Primrose, if I am to fall-"

"Stop right there," she interrupted, pointing a finger right into his face. "Don't say things like that, Olberic."

"But if-"

"No," she said decisively. "You will  _not_  die today, Olberic. I refuse to entertain the notion. You will complete the task you've set out for. I know it. The only man who will lose his life this day is Werner, and that is  _final_."

He considered arguing his point, but decided against it. Primrose was awfully stubborn when she wanted to be.

Besides, if he  _was_  to fall in battle, the rest of the group already knew who to tell. The warrior straightened. "Alright. Let us begin."

Primrose nodded confidently, and the pair walked outside.

The square was bustling - more than it had been before, at least. The looks of resignation on the townspeople's faces were now mixed with apprehension and a bit of hope. It served to strengthen Olberic's resolve.

He could pick out H'aanit, Tressa, Therion, and Alfyn in the crowd. They were speaking with each other, not bothering with any semblance of stealth. It wouldn't matter soon, anyway.

They strolled into the residential area, which was considerably less busy. Most of the townspeople were part of the rebel group by now, and they would be back in the square. Olberic and Primrose walked down by the pier, where Harald had told them to meet him, and there he was.

He was standing by a dark hole that was dug into the wall. With him were Cyrus and Ophilia, as well as about ten townspeople. All of them held weapons - some bows, some swords and shields.

"Ready?" Harald asked.

"Of course."

"Good." The rebel leader paused. "I'm a bit nervous, to be honest. I think a part of me never thought we'd get this far."

"That is understandable," Olberic told him. "I know how you feel. But there is no turning back now."

"Yes, I know," Harald said. "Alright, is everyone ready? We're waiting for a signal from the square. When we hear it, that's when we go inside."

"And no one knows of this passage?" Cyrus asked.

"Not a soul," Harald replied confidently. "My father was the one who built it, and Werner didn't give him any time to share that information. It leads straight into his manse."

"Excellent," the scholar said, rubbing his hands together. He opened a tome and flipped through it idly.

"What kind of signal are we waiting for?" Ophilia asked curiously.

As if on cue, an animal's roar suddenly came from the square, followed by quite a bit of screaming.

"I see," Ophilia said quietly.

"Let's go, everyone," Harald said. "Today, we free our town!"

The group entered the passageway one by one, and came out inside a large, dimly lit hall. Water rushed around them as their steps echoed in the enclosed space.

There was supposed to be no danger, they all knew that. But they kept one hand on their weapons anyway.

"Harald, answer me something," Cyrus said eventually.

"Hm?"

"What is to happen if something goes wrong?"

"You'll have to be more specific."

The scholar thought about that. "What if Werner is in the square right now, dealing with the diversion himself?"

"We hide in the manse, wait for him to return, and attack when he least expects it."

"Don't you think he'd be wary of something like that after a fight broke out in town?" Ophilia asked.

Harald was silent for a moment. "He might be."

They walked for a while longer. Perhaps ten minutes had passed, with little noise but their footsteps and the rushing water, when Olberic heard a gasp from next to him.

"Look there," Primrose said, pointing. Everyone turned turned to see what she was looking at.

High above their heads, there was an alcove carved out in the stone. Bars were placed across an opening, creating a makeshift prison.

There was a person inside. Their features couldn't be made out, but whoever it was looked horribly thin.

"No..." Harald whispered. "That can't be. He shouldn't know about this place!"

"Don't panic," Cyrus advised. "Be on your guard, everyone."

There was a certain tension in the air now, and a few people drew their weapons. Ophilia tapped her staff on the ground nervously.

It took a bit more walking, but the passageway eventually came to an end, with a high wall in front of them. Off to their right was a staircase.

"This is it," Harald told the group. There was more than a little bit of apprehension in his voice. "That staircase leads to the manse. Time to go."

Everyone took a step forward.

Someone spoke a word.

A second later, there was a faint  _click_ , and an arrow suddenly sprouted from one of the townspeople's necks. He made a gurgling noise as he fell to the ground, dead.

Harald swore. "They're here!"

Olberic looked around, and as he did, three more arrows rained on them. One hit another townsperson, in the shoulder this time. The other two stuck in the ground. The warrior followed the angle they were stuck at and looked up.

The high wall that they'd come across was, in fact, a platform. This was evidenced by the fact there were seven men standing there.

One of them, barely visible in the dim light, was Werner.

Olberic drew his blade. "Behind me!" he ordered.

They followed the order, fanning out behind him. Primrose hurriedly danced a few steps, and Olberic's body suddenly felt much more nimble.

Ophilia lifted her staff, and the surrounding area was brightened considerably. The group finally got a good look at the soldiers opposing them as their arrows flew once more.

Olberic batted one away with his sword, and Cyrus blocked a few more with a sheet of ice. The last one struck another townsperson right between the eyes, and he went down.

"Don't just stand there!" Harald shouted, plucking a bow from one of the fallen. "Fire!"

The few that still had their bows lifted them, aimed, and let them fly, but only one landed. It stuck in one of the soldier's thighs. He grunted in pain, and knelt to tend to it. "Damn," he muttered.

Without missing a beat, Werner grabbed him by the collar and lifted him back up. "Fire, you idiot."

The soldier shakily lifted his weapon again. There was another faint  _click_ , and the bolt went wide.

Werner rolled his eyes. "Never mind." He yanked the crossbow out of the man's hands, grabbed his collar once more, and tossed him off the platform headfirst.

There was a pained scream that was interrupted by a sound that was rather similar to a large fruit being smashed on the ground. The soldier's body went limp.

"Werner!" Olberic cried. "Stop this foolishness!"

The remaining soldiers hurriedly loaded and fired again. The man who was struck earlier got hit a second time, and he went down.

Another man suddenly dropped his sword and pointed accusingly at Harald. "Y-you did this, didn't you?!" he screamed hysterically. "You led us here on purpose!"

Before anyone could say another word, he ran back the way they came. His footsteps, however, were interrupted by another sound of pain.

"Olberic!" Cyrus shouted. "Behind us!"

The warrior glanced around, and saw another group of soldiers closing in behind them. The body of the fleeing man was at their feet.

"A two-pronged attack?!" Harald said.

Even as he said this, however, a third group of soldiers came down the stairs that led into the manse. They were thoroughly outnumbered.

One of the remaining townspeople dropped his weapon and begged for mercy.

Another bolt found his throat before he was finished talking.

"Hold!" Werner shouted, holding up one hand. He had been staring intently at the group.

At once, everything stopped. The only sound was the rushing water. The soldiers stayed in a fighting stance, though.

"Olberic, did he say?" Werner continued. He leaned forward for a closer look. "Yes... you do look rather familiar, don't you? You're the Unbending Blade."

"A title I wore with pride until you stole my homeland from me!" Olberic growled.

"Oh, please," Werner said, rolling his eyes again. "I don't need your pathetic little speeches. I suppose you've come for revenge, is that right? Here I thought Erhardt had killed you, but I suppose I couldn't trust that imbecile to do everything."

Olberic gritted his teeth. "Cease this foolishness, Werner, and face me."

The tyrant actually laughed at that. "Why should I bother? The same outcome will occur if I have my soldiers do it instead." He swept out one hand. "Kill his friends first."

They fired again. Without missing a beat, Cyrus held up his tome, murmured some words, and blocked their path with a sheet of ice. It shattered after a moment, but the shards rained down on the grounded soldiers. Two were impaled by particularly large icicles.

"Don't you dare!" Olberic roared. He still felt the effects of Primrose's dance, and he sprinted around to bring his sword down on the men who were moving from the back.

In the back of his mind, he chastised himself for allowing the group to be split up the way it was; as they were, he was the only one well-suited for physical combat. That wasn't to say that Primrose, Cyrus, and Ophilia couldn't hold their own in a fight, but they were all quite a bit more fragile than him.

Primrose moved in a frantic dance with what little space she could afford. He didn't feel the effects right away, but a stray arrow hit his armor and bounced right off, indicating what she'd done. Ophilia, meanwhile, had her staff raised and continually bathed the group in a pale green light, doing her best to keep them from sustaining any particularly grievous wounds.

Cyrus muttered another word and pressed his palm to the ground, and a wall of flames erupted in a wide circle around them.

"Olberic!" the scholar shouted. "Prepare yourself! I can't hold this for long!"

"Of course, my friend!" Olberic responded. The soldiers stood just outside the circle's heat, waiting. Olberic, meanwhile readied his sword. "When it dissipates, I will cut a path through them! I want you all to escape!"

Primrose danced once more, a little more slowly, and a circle of pure blackness closed in on one of the surrounding soldiers. "Don't be so thick-headed, Olberic!" she replied. "I told you earlier! You aren't dying today! We won't leave you!"

"This isn't a negotiation, Primrose!" he shot back. "That goes for you as well, Harald!"

The rebel leader loosed another arrow. It caught the flames and struck another of the soldiers, and the cloth surrounding his armor caught fire. He didn't reply.

The flames started to flicker and die down. Cyrus' forehead was beaded with sweat, and he looked positively exhausted.

"Prepare yourselves!" Olberic shouted.

With a low sound, the spellfire disappeared. The soldiers began to close in. Olberic had charged ahead when he realized that there was another sound in the gloom - footsteps. Rapid footsteps, which definitely didn't belong to one of the soldiers.

A second later, a golden blur passed by the group behind them, and three of the soldiers fell. Olberic stopped moving when he realized who it was.

"Erhardt?!" he asked in disbelief.

The former knight straightened, but stayed in a fighting stance. "Sorry I'm late, old friend. Watch yourself."

Far above them, Werner growled. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Repaying a debt," Erhardt responded. "Olberic, you know what you have to do. I'll handle things here."

"Are you sure, Erhardt?"

"Thoroughly," he responded. There was a glint in his eye. "Take your friends. It'll be easier if I don't have anyone to protect. Go and finish this!"

Olberic stared for a moment, still not totally believing his eyes, before nodding. "Of course." He turned to the group. "Erhardt will handle things here! Let's go!"

They didn't have to be told twice. Olberic, Primrose, Ophilia, Cyrus, and Harald sprinted towards the staircase that led into the manse.

One of the soldiers on the platform watched them go before turning his attention back to Erhardt, who was currently cutting a swath through the soldiers.

"Damn," he said, awed. "The Twin Blades of Hornburg sure live up to the legends."

Werner lifted his boot and kicked him off the platform. He barely had time to scream as he fell, and he landed with a wet cracking sound as his body stopped moving.

"Take care of this fool," Werner said uncaringly. "I have an arrangement to deal with."

{asterisks}

They didn't stop running until they were firmly inside the manse. When they got there, Olberic scanned their dimly lit surroundings. "Ophilia," he said. "Light, please."

The cleric murmured a word and her staff lit up, illuminating the hall they were in. Olberic took another look around, then, deeming it safe, relaxed. He turned back to his friends.

Cyrus was gasping for breath, leaning hard on the wall. His face shone with sweat. "Goodness me, I... I've never tried that before," he said with a dazed smile.

"It was very impressive," Ophilia told him. "Your command over fire is staggering."

"Why, thank you, my dear..." Cyrus replied. "But your... your own capabilities... humble me. Now... let's try..."

He straightened as best he could, and tried to step forward, but crumpled almost immediately. Ophilia and Primrose rushed to catch him.

"Ah," he said. "It seems I'm not... not quite... ready yet..." He smiled vacantly at his companions. "Thank you..."

Olberic hurriedly opened the travel pouch on his waist and withdrew a plum. It was somewhat bruised, but that probably wouldn't matter. The girls slowly eased him into a sitting position, and the warrior passed him the fruit. Cyrus accepted it gratefully, slowly raising it to his lips and taking a little bite.

"Thank you... Sir Olberic," he said. "I rarely exert myself... like this, you see... it would seem I was rather... unprepared... for such an event..."

"It's fine, my friend," Olberic replied, smiling. "You've done well today. Do not worry about pushing yourself further."

Cyrus smiled gratefully, and took another bite of the plum. He flexed his fingers. "I must say, I feel a little better already. The power of these fruits is astounding."

Ophilia continued tending to him as Olberic got up and got a better look at the manse, trying to map out a path. He didn't notice the person next to him until she spoke.

"What the  _hell_  were you thinking, Olberic?" Primrose hissed.

The warrior jumped, surprised. "I'm sorry?"

"Why did you give up so easily?"

"Give up? Primrose, I don't-"

"Why were you so intent on making us leave you behind?!" she asked, poking an accusatory finger at his chest.

Ah. He gave her a pained look. "Primrose, please be reasonable," he said, trying his best to placate her. "We were outnumbered. It was a nigh-unwinnable battle. Had Erhardt not arrived when he did, we may very well have died there."

"And what makes you think we wouldn't have wanted to stay with you?" she accused.

"Forgive me. That was not my meaning," Olberic continued. "I simply wanted to ensure my friends made it out alive. You all still have lives ahead of you-"

Primrose rolled her eyes. "You are  _thirty-five years old_ , you oaf. You have as much life left as the rest of us. Stop talking like an old man."

Olberic blushed in embarrassment. "My apologies."

"I just..." Primrose gave a resigned sigh, and hugged herself. "All of us value you, Olberic," she said seriously. "We're... friends, right? None of us want you to throw your life away. I... I've had enough loss in my life. I don't want to add you to the list."

He hesitated for a second, but told her what she wanted to hear. "You won't."

"That's better," Primrose replied. A hint of a smile appeared on her face.

Olberic turned back to the other three. "How is Cyrus?"

"He can walk," Ophilia confirmed. Indeed, the scholar was up and moving about with little difficulty - albeit somewhat slower than usual. "But he's going to leave the fighting to us."

"Excellent," Olberic said, and turned to Harald. "Now. I imagine you know this building better than we do. Which way do we go?"

Harald seemed to be in a bit of reverie, but his eyes snapped up when Olberic spoke to him. "Ah... I will guide you." He was silent for a second. "I'm sorry, Sir Olberic... I'm sorry to all of you. I think I was overconfident. I should've expected that he would've known..."

Ophilia shook her head. "Don't dwell on that, Harald," she said kindly. "Keep focused on the future. The important thing is that we're here now. Justice will still be served."

Harald smiled at her. "Thank you for your kind words, Sister..." He walked to the front of the group. "Shall we, then?"

And so they walked. Harald looked at the wooden carvings wistfully as he guided them, clearly missing his past.

He didn't have much time to reminisce, however. Werner was no fool; the manse was home to several constructs, magical guardians meant to deter intruders. There was not a single living being, however; the soldiers must've all been occupied in the town square or the tunnel.

Olberic finished slicing apart a golem-like creature, and sheathed his sword. "How much further, Harald?"

"Straight ahead." The rebel leader looked terribly nervous, but he steeled himself and walked forward. The four travelers followed.

They soon came across a very large, ornate door. "In there," Harald confirmed, answering the unspoken question.

There was a moment's hesitation before Olberic spoke. "My friends," he said. "You have been a beacon of hope and a source of friendship for some time now, and I thank you for that. If-"

He was going to say "if I fall in battle today," but remembered what he told Primrose earlier and cut himself off.

The dancer eyed him, but all she said was "Be careful, Olberic."

"I will," the knight replied. "Let us begin."

It opened into a very large room with a very high ceiling. The far end had a tall window that allowed sunlight in, allowing for much better lighting than the rest of the manse did. There was an ornately carved wooden desk in front of it.

Of course, none of that mattered, because just in front of that desk stood Werner. He looked quite bored.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't appear," he drawled.

"Werner!" Olberic cried, heart racing. "Your villainy ends today!"

The tyrant rolled his eyes. "So I've heard. Your little infiltration strategy wasn't quite as effective as you'd hoped. Fitting, I suppose." He spoke directly to Harald. "You're just as much of a fool as your father was."

Harald gritted his teeth, but stayed calm.

Olberic tried again to keep his attention. "Your quarrel is with  _me_ , you cur. Let us duel."

Werner shook his head. "Wrong. My quarrel is with  _him_ , the one who's trying to take my town."

"Which you stole in the first place!"

"It matters not.  _I_  am the lord of Riverford. I intend to keep it that way." He drew that wickedly sharp blade. "But if you, Sir Olberic, would rather fight me in his stead, then by all means. There is nothing I hate more than fools who cling to their past."

Olberic drew his own blade once more. "A battle, then. Fair and square."

Werner stared for a moment. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not." He snapped his fingers, and four guards entered the room. Each one held a black sack over his shoulder, and each one was wiggling.

Olberic stared, trying not to think about what the bundles were, before turning back to him. "I want a fair fight, Werner! You and me!"

"And you'll get one," the tyrant responded calmly. "I just want you to know what the stakes are."

The guards unceremoniously dumped the contents of the sacks onto the ground, and Olberic's fears were confirmed.

Tressa, H'aanit, Therion, and Alfyn were lying there, tied up and gagged. Each one also had some measure of injuries; bruises or cuts. Nothing fatal, it seemed, thankfully.

"My gaols have been emptying rather quickly as of late," Werner gloated. "But thanks to that little riot you pulled in the square, I know exactly who the criminals are. I feel I must thank you. We'll have plenty of kindling for months to come, and I think we'll start with these four!"

Olberic started towards them, but the guards crossed their spears in front of him, blocking his progress.

"Now, back to what I was saying," Werner continued, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. "If any of you try to free them, my men will kill them. And they'll be keeping very close eyes on all of you. You won't be trying any funny business."

Olberic could see Tressa's eyes widen fearfully.

"Do I have your word that you will not attempt to free them?"

Olberic gritted his teeth. "Yes."

He tried to give his friends a reassuring look, but given the situation, it was rather difficult. Therion locked eyes with him, however, and inclined his head very slightly. Olberic noticed a little bit of movement around his hands.

Perhaps there was hope yet.

"Now let us duel, Werner!" Olberic challenged. "For the memory of my homeland, I will strike you down!"

Olberic charged, and the battle began. Werner didn't move a muscle until the warrior was nearly on top of him, but blocked the strike with an expertly minute movement. Their blades locked, Olberic shoved forward with all his strength, but gained little ground.

He lost it completely when Werner, quick as a flash, withdrew one hand and punched Olberic square in the jaw. The knight stumbled back a few steps, surprised.

Werner stayed where he was, and chuckled. "You're making this too easy for me, Olberic. Been out of practice since your king died?"

"You wish!" Olberic roared, and charged again. He tried for a stab now, but Werner sidestepped, and another hard punch connected, this time with his cheek. Olberic felt a bruise growing there.

Werner was no slouch; he hit hard, for sure. But Olberic wasn't about to let that faze him. "If you wanted to duel with fists instead of swords... why not say so?"

"Who said I did?" Werner retorted. "I must say, I'm enjoying myself quite a bit. This is how a  _real_  man fights, Olberic. I fight to win."

He still didn't attack, so Olberic did it instead. The same outcome occurred; Werner parried the attack, and punched him with his free hand.

The other four watched the exchange. Cyrus in particular was paying close attention.

"Why isn't he using his sword?" the scholar mused out loud.

Primrose watched him. "If I knew you at all, Cyrus, I'd say you have a theory."

The scholar forced a smile. "Well, I do have one. But it seems rather... far-fetched, if you will."

Primrose took another look over at their imprisoned friends. Therion's arms were moving a little more freely.

Olberic tried a few different tactics to best Werner. He tried just about all of the different sword techniques he knew, all of the styles he'd learned, everything he could think of on the fly. The battle raged for several minutes, and he still couldn't get anywhere. The only sound was the  _clang_  of steel on steel.

Werner seemed to get more and more disinterested the entire time they fought, and finally, it reached its peak. "Enough," he said. He lifted one boot and kicked Olberic backward with enough force to make him fall, and before the knight could get up again, Werner had already closed the distance. His foot rested on Olberic's chest, preventing him from getting up, and raised his blade, pointed straight down.

"I expected more from Hornburg's most famous knight," he mused. "You're a damned fool."

The blade stabbed down. Olberic watched helplessly.

In that moment, time seemed to slow down. Two things happened at about the same time.

One, Primrose appeared out of nowhere, the edge of her dagger aimed at Werner's throat.

Two, the tyrant missed his mark. The tip of his blade stabbed directly into the wood of the floor, not an inch from Olberic's face.

He had no time to ponder either of these things, however, and watched in surprise as Primrose fought furiously. She didn't ease up the pressure on Werner for but a moment, and kept herself moving forward so the tyrant would have no choice but to fight defensively.

"Move, Olberic!" she shouted. He obliged, quickly getting up and backing away toward his friends. Ophilia whispered a word, and his body was bathed in a pale green light.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Olberic was still somewhat dazed, but he replied. "Alive."

His mind raced, however, desperately trying to piece together what had happened just a moment ago.

"Olberic, might I share a theory with you?" Cyrus asked casually.

"Is it relevant?"

"Very. It's about Werner's fighting style."

Olberic motioned for him to go on.

"Now, this may sound strange at first, but you're familiar with our twelve gods, correct?"

The warrior blinked. That  _did_  sound strange, but knowing Cyrus, it was just necessary information. "Yes. When I was still a knight of Hornburg, I would pray to Brand to grant me strength before an important battle."

Cyrus smiled. "I was always rather partial to Alephan. Anyway, there is a theory in many academic circles that the gods interfere with our mortal lives from time to time, favoring some while disowning others. The colleagues that I spoke with believed this to be an explanation for the phenomenon of luck."

"Intriguing," Olberic replied truthfully. He kept an eye on Primrose, who was still holding her own as the two circled the room in a dance of steel. "But for what reason do you share this information?"

"Well, as odd as it may seem, I believe it may be why Werner isn't using his sword."

Those words made something click in Olberic's head. "Go on."

"It's entire possible that Werner is a part of the latter category, and the gods have cursed him for his actions - orchestrating the fall of Hornburg, forcing the people of Riverford to live under his tyranny," Cyrus continued. "Of course, I don't pretend to understand the thought process of a god, but I felt it somewhat pertinent."

"Cyrus, I believe you gave me the key to victory."

The scholar looked surprised. "I did?"

"Perhaps. But for now, I must think."

Olberic closed his eyes in thought. One important question was on his mind.

Did Werner miss his strike before Primrose attacked him, or after?

He ran through the events of that moment over and over in his mind. If it happened before Primrose attacked, then Cyrus' theory was correct, and it was a weakness that Olberic could exploit.

But if it happened after, then there was little he could do.

Olberic had never been a gambling man, but in the end, he decided the only course of action was to try his own luck. In his mind, he prayed to every god he could think of, desperately hoping that the risk he was about to take would pay off.

"Ophilia," he said. "From how far away are your healing powers effective?"

She blinked, not expecting the question. "Erm... I've never thought about it before. It's stronger when someone is closer to me..." She held the tip of her staff in her hands and pointed it straight forward. "I believe this would be close, however. Why do you ask?"

"Prepare yourself," he said, heart racing.

_Lord Azelhart, forgive me if I'm wrong._

Olberic cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled "PRIMROSE!"

It got the reaction he was hoping for; Primrose's rhythm was completely thrown off, and she glanced back around at Olberic, her concentration broken. Behind her, Werner raised his sword.

Time slowed down. Olberic started forward as that wickedly sharp blade descended, aimed at Primrose's head.

 _Thunk_.

That was not the noise of the world being left with one Azelhart fewer, but instead the noise of a blade that, against its master's wishes, had turned aside at the last moment, and gotten stuck in the floor for a second time.

"Dammit!" Werner spat. He wasted no time in withdrawing the blade, but by then, Olberic and Primrose had already switched places.

He spared a glance over at Therion, who slowly raised one hand and wiggled his fingers. A dagger was clutched in his palm, and he discreetly started working on Tressa's bindings.

Olberic returned his attention to his opponent. "I know your secret, Werner."

The tyrant's teeth were gritted, and he was visibly seething, but said nothing.

"You have no one," Olberic continued. "You dissolved your group of mercenaries. You execute those of the town you stole. You murder your own men! The  _gods themselves_  have forsaken you for your actions, Werner!"

"SHUT UP!" the tyrant screamed. "And I suppose you think  _you're_  the one the gods favor, is that it?! Don't act so high and mighty, you bastard!"

He charged. It was a mistake. His sword missed its mark once more, and the former knight of Hornburg knocked him away without trouble.

Werner backed up a little until he was in front of his desk again, in the same place he'd been in when the group had entered the room.

And off in the distance, the spectators could've sworn they heard the rumbling of thunder, even as sunlight streamed through the window.

Olberic suddenly felt power, power like he had never felt in his life. His muscles were filled with it, every inch of his body projecting sheer strength. His mouth opened, and words that were not his own poured out.

"WERNER!" he thundered. "Your crimes against humanity can never be forgiven! You alone are responsible for the fall of a great kingdom, and the deaths of dozens in this town! For your crimes, there is only one sentence!"

Olberic's sword glowed, and he raised it above his head. The power he felt reached its peak.

For just one moment, in that fight, he felt as though his body contained the strength of a god. Everyone else in the room looked on in awe and fear.

As the Unbending Blade of Hornburg swung his sword, the sentence that would announce Werner's final judgment escaped his lips.

" **I WREAK HAVOC UPON THEE!** "

A blade of light shot from Olberic's sword and slammed into Werner like a physical blow. He raised his own sword to try and defend himself, but the blade shattered easily. He was pushed backward, shoved through the desk, and slammed against the window as the final attack dissipated. All the while, his mouth was open in a blood-curdling scream.

When the blow finally disappeared, Werner slumped into a sitting position. The remnants of his shattered sword lay around him. The tyrant coughed, and when he did, blood stained the carpet.

The power left Olberic's body, and the knight's body suddenly felt like a giant bruise. His vision blurred scarlet at the edges, and he leaned heavily on his sword as he took a few steps forward. A few more drops of blood fell on the ground, and he vaguely noted that they were his own.

When he stood above Werner's dying form, he spoke.

"Tell me..." Olberic panted. "Why... Hornburg...?"

The tyrant gave him a wheezing chuckle, even as more blood dribbled out of his mouth. "The Gate... of Finis..."

A part of Olberic felt fury, sheer rage at the thought of why this man destroyed his home. A gate? Why could that possibly be important enough to destroy a kingdom? But he was too exhausted to voice this concern.

Werner chuckled again, shaking his head. "That damned woman... tricked me..."

That forced a response from Olberic's lips. "Woman...?"

Werner wheezed. "Better hurry, Eisenberg... her plans for this realm... are far worse... than anything I ever attempted..."

The tyrant's laughter died down into slow, shuddering breaths, and the life finally left his body.

At the same time, Olberic could feel what little strength he had remaining leave him. His sword fell out of his grip, and he collapsed in a heap upon the ground. As his eyes closed, he heard several voices calling what sounded vaguely like his name.

Oh well. His mission was complete.

Everything went dark.

{asterisks}

His eyes were still closed, but there was light on his face. Underneath him, he could feel the smooth fabric of... blankets, probably.

The pain and exhaustion he had felt was mostly gone now, but there was still hints of it here and there.

Had he survived? Olberic remembered delivering the final blow to Werner, a moment where he felt power immeasurable... followed by the most intense exhaustion he'd ever known.

There was only one way to find out. Olberic opened his eyes.

There was a pair of faces above him, belonging to Alfyn and Ophilia. Their faces held expressions of sheer elation.

"He's awake, he's awake!" Alfyn cried, and ran off without another word. Olberic blinked.

"Ophilia...?" he asked.

She seemed to be composing herself better than Alfyn had at least, although she still couldn't keep the grin off her face. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you up, Olberic!" she said, slowly wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "We were all so worried about you! How are you feeling?"

His throat felt awfully dry. "Thirsty," he decided. The cleric passed him a glass of water, and he drank like a man who hadn't left the desert in years. A bit spilled down his front.

He looked at his surroundings; he was back in his room at Riverford's inn. Before he could ask Ophilia what happened, however, the door burst open with such force that it was almost ripped from its hinges, and the other six travelers came into the room.

"Look!" Alfyn cried, pointing. "He finally woke up, you guys!"

Almost immediately, they surrounded his bed and his ears were filled with chatter.

"Never seen anything like it-"

"Thought you'd  _died_ -"

"Unbending Blade indeed-"

Olberic stared at each one, bemused, and held up his hands in a defensive gesture. The chatter slowly died down.

"My friends, I..." He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "What happened?"

There was silence for a second. "You don't remember?" Primrose asked.

"I remember the duel with Werner..." he said slowly. "Defeating him, and... now waking up."

"Olberic, you've been asleep for three days."

He blinked. "Have I?"

Alfyn chuckled. "That's gotta be the calmest reaction I've ever heard from someone who was in a coma."

Olberic stared, still a bit dazed from the sudden action. He was suddenly acutely aware of a tapping noise from somewhere in the room.

Primrose rolled her eyes, and gestured to Cyrus, who was impatiently tapping one finger on the book in his hand. "Go on, then. You've waited long enough."

The scholar looked like a kid in a candy store as words, so fast as to be nearly incoherent, poured from his mouth. "Olberic, I've read a great deal of theories about our twelve gods, and in particular, one facet that I was always quite interested in was how they interfered in our world! There have been tales across the ages of a lucky few human beings who, through sheer force of will or strength of character, were granted the ability to channel one of the gods' strength, and even though you might think it sounds preposterous, I believe that this is the reason you were able to defeat Werner! In particular, I believe that you were given the power of Brand, in that moment, because I must say, I've never seen nor heard of someone managing to summon an attack quite like yours, and you did mention your affinity for that particular god just before the event occurred! This is a stupendous academic discovery! It's-"

"Damn, Professor, reel yourself in a little," Therion interrupted, shaking his head.

Cyrus stopped talking at that, and cleared his throat daintily. "My apologies, my friends. As you know, I do have something of a habit of getting carried away when it comes to-"

" _Anyway_ ," Alfyn said, before he could get started again. "We're all really glad you're okay."

Olberic felt rather overwhelmed in that moment, but felt a smile grow on his face. "And what of the town?"

"Doing wonderfully," Ophilia told him, beaming. "They took down that awful pyre, and Harald has been granted the title of Lord of Riverford. He's very busy, but the rest of the townsfolk couldn't be happier."

"They've invited us to stay for a celebration, too!" Tressa said.

"Celebration?"

"A big ol' feast in your honor!" she continued. "They wanted to wait until you woke up, though."

A feast in his honor. That had not happened for Olberic in a very long time. It brought back nice memories.

"D'you need anything else?" Alfyn asked.

"Another glass of water would be nice, if it isn't too much trouble," he said truthfully. The apothecary dutifully brought him one, and he downed it quickly.

The knight took a deep breath, and prepared himself for the relentless teasing that would inevitably follow the next sentence. "And if you don't mind... I would speak to Primrose alone."

The dancer in question winked at him, which didn't go unnoticed by the group. "Oh my... finally ready to tell me how you feel?"

Alfyn grinned. "As if you aren't thinkin' the same, Prim."

She shrugged. "What can I say? I like my men big and strong." She flicked her hand at them. "Now shoo, shoo. It might get loud in here."

Alfyn whistled, eliciting a laugh, and Ophilia's face turned bright red, which got a few more, but the group dutifully left the room. Olberic and Primrose were alone.

Her teasing manner was gone. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I simply wished to... apologize for my strategy, during the fight," Olberic responded.

Primrose tilted her head. "Your strategy."

"When you were fighting Werner," Olberic said. "I acted on Cyrus' theory and put your life in danger."

She blinked. "Cyrus mentioned that."

"That doesn't surprise me," the knight replied, trying to break the tension a little. "But you saved my life in that battle, and I repaid the favor by putting yours in peril. It was... irresponsible of me."

"Save it," Primrose said immediately.

"I'm sorry?"

"You were right, weren't you?" she continued. "Or... Cyrus was, I suppose. But it payed off." She spread her hands. "I'm fine. There's no need to apologize, Olberic."

Olberic struggled with his words. "Yes, but-"

Primrose sighed. "Stop."

He dutifully stopped talking.

"You're far too insistent on taking responsibility for everything, Olberic," she told him. "For goodness' sake, let it go. We won. That's the important thing."

He was silent for a second. "I... alright."

Now that that was settled, she tried to change the subject. "So how do you feel?"

He thought about that. "Like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders," he responded. "I believe... I believe I may have rediscovered my purpose."

She grinned. "Truly?"

"I fight to defend the defenseless," he said. "It came to me during the battle with Werner. In truth... I feel the answer was in front of me all along. When I realized it, I must say that I felt rather foolish."

"It's not foolish," Primrose said. She moved a little closer and put a hand over his. "Sometimes it takes a little something extra to discover the answer."

Olberic smiled. "Thank you, Primrose. For everything. You have been my most stalwart companion throughout this journey... I could not have asked for a better friend."

She smiled. It looked just a little bit more forced. "Of course, Olberic. Was there anything else you wanted to speak about?" Her tone was a bit different; almost hopeful.

"No, I believe that was all."

She bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

Olberic frowned. "Quite. To what do you refer?"

She sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then she did something rather unexpected.

She grabbed hold of Olberic's collar, yanked him forward, and pressed her lips against his.

Primrose kept her eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see his reaction in case he didn't like it. His stubble scratched her chin.

The kiss continued for several seconds before she broke away slightly.

"That's what I refer to, you oaf," she whispered. She chanced a look at his face.

Olberic's eyes were wide and his face was red. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he was trying to speak. She could see a bit of her lipstick still left there. If she wasn't so nervous, she might've laughed.

She looked away. "M-my apologies, Olberic. I'll leave you now..."

"Wait!" the warrior blurted. He shook his head. "I did not- forgive- Primrose, for how long have you...?"

She debated whether or not to tell him for a moment, but the decision was made quickly. "Since Noblecourt. When Simeon... betrayed me. You were the first by my side. There was a certain look in your eyes, and... it took me a long time to figure it out, but I liked it. A lot."

Olberic took a moment to gather himself before he spoke again. "Forgive me, Primrose, I... I've little experience with the fairer sex, but now that my journey is finished, I can-"

She put a finger over his lips. "Don't worry, Olberic," she told him. "I don't need an answer now." She smiled. "And  _your_  journey might be over, but you still have seven more to help out with. Just... think it over, alright? And when all this is done, and we've all completed what we set out for... perhaps you would consider it."

Olberic smiled warmly. "It would be an honor."

They stayed like that for a moment, and Primrose planted another kiss on his cheek. "There... that'll be the last one for now. Let's get you out of bed, shall we? I'm sure you're aching to go outside."

"Quite so," Olberic agreed. He got his feet on the ground and stood, wobbling a little. Primrose was there to catch him. It was fairly difficult, given their rather drastic difference in size, but she managed.

As Olberic walked outside, saw the sun burning a little brighter, saw the flowers in the town square, and saw the now-beaming faces of the people of Riverford, all with the dancer at his side, he thought that there was more hope in this world than he had ever imagined before.


End file.
